


Home Coming

by anaxibiaclark



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Kind of takes place after Season 3, Legal Army Recruit, M/M, Mention of Death, Mickey is best Dad, Military, Minor Violence, Ninja Yev, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purgatory - Night club, Survivors Guilt, Unpleasant Flashbacks, Visible Injuries, honorable discharge, medical leave, minor gore, the alibi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaxibiaclark/pseuds/anaxibiaclark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After serving two tours in the Middle East, Ian is finally home. Can he reintegrate back into a civilian lifestyle? Or, will his nightmares of war make life a living hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jet Lag

Ian stood by the O’Hare baggage claim, watching the conveyor belt make its rounds, with the same pieces of luggage, for the umpteenth time. It felt as if he’d been there for hours, just waiting for his olive green duffle bag. He started fiddling with the hem of his jacket, feeling out of place in his civvies. The same neon pink Barbie backpack trundled into view again, making him roll his eyes skyward, and let out a vented breath of frustration.

It had been a last minute decision to come back, and he'd had the entire layover in Cincinnati to regret it. With nothing to do for three hours but sit in a hard plastic chair, his mind had come up with all sorts of questions that he was still trying to puzzle out: Would Fiona be upset with him for not coming back while on leave? How big had Debbie and Carl gotten and would Liam even recognize him? Maybe he should have Skyped with them more often while he was in Boston.

Knowing that he was driving himself into a fit, he’d started pacing the airport walkways, hoping to work off some steam. It had helped a little, but he’d had to stop when he noticed that one guy had been marking his last six laps on a napkin. Ian could understand cautious paranoia. Besides, by then he’d been feeling better, less on edge, and had headed back to his gate; deciding along the way that maybe his debriefing officer had been wrong. He was still the one in control, not the mood swings that had followed him out of the Combat Support Hospital (CSH).

The sound of screeching metal brought Ian abruptly out of his daydream. Luggage started to slide down the open ramp onto the belt. He took a deep breath and ran a few fingers through his hair. It hadn’t helped though, he was still nervous about seeing his family after he’d skipped out on them last time. But after the Army had issued him an Honorable Discharge, he just needed to be alone. They would welcome him back, probably. Still, the second tour had been longer than he had expected when he’d first re-upped.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Ian watched as his duffle bag finally thumped down onto the belt. He reached out to grab it when a hand stretched out from the crowd and snatched it up. Ian felt his cheeks flush. Not even ten fuckin’ minutes back in Chicago and already someone was trying to take his shit.

“Hey!” He shouted, shoving his way through the crowd. “Hey! That’s my bag asshole!”

“Yeah no shit,” Lip said, turning towards him. “I figured that when I saw your name on the side.”

“Jesus, Lip,” Ian groused, “thought I was going to have to bust someone’s head open.”

“Jesus yourself,” Lip grinned, an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, “not back in town for even an hour and already lookin’ for a fight?”

“Fuck off man,” Ian smiled, “you would have reacted the same way if some asshole grabbed your shit.”

Lip shrugged, “Corporal, huh?” He held out the duffle, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Who’d you fuck to make rank?”

Ian gave him a single finger salute as he snatched at the duffle, “I busted my ass for that rank, you dick.”

“Sure you did,” Lip said, his grip still tight on the bag. He gave it a sharp yank, pulling Ian into a quick hug and clapping him on the back before stepping away. “Come on, Amanda went to get the car as soon as we saw you.”

Lip lit up once they were on the sidewalk. "Shit, man," he gestured towards Ian's face, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Those bastards did a number on you, didn't they?"

Ian consciously touched his scar. "Yeah, well you should see the other guy."

Lip gave his brother a skeptical look, then shrugged. “Probably got what was coming to them.”

Ian stood at the curb, hands in his pockets, welcoming the silence, aside from the usual noise of the airport.

“You know,” Lip said abruptly, making Ian jump, “you should have told Fiona.”

“Think maybe she won’t notice?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Lip said, blowing out a stream of smoke and pinching out the cigarette as a sleek black Lexus LS pulled up in front of them.

“Really,” Ian said, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Lip shrugged. “It was a gift from Amanda’s dad.”

“Which was pointless,” Amanda said with mock irritation as she climbed out of the drivers seat. “You still take the L every damn time we visit your family.”

“It’s less likely to get broken into if I leave it at the house.” Lip said pointedly as he grabbed the keys from her.

“South side, Lip,” she hissed. “They live in the south side, where there’s a better chance for the car to get stolen.”

“Not if they know what’s good for them,” he replied, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

Ian shook his head. “You guys good?” He lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Because I’m not able to drive and I doubt you want to duke it out in the back seat.”

“No, that was foreplay for you and Mickey.” Lip winked at Amanda, then gave a sly grin. “We’re more civilized when it comes to that.” 

Ian’s lip curled, “ha ha, aren’t you funny. Now get in the fucking car you prick.”

Lip casually flipped off his brother before hopping into the driver's seat.

Amanda rolled her eyes, then turned towards Ian. “How was your trip in?” She asked, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Long,” Ian sighed, releasing her. “Can’t believe you’re still with my dick of an older brother.”

She grinned and grabbed the passenger door, “that’s one of his best assets.”

“Great to know,” Ian said with more than a hint of sarcasm as he climbed into the back seat. “All right Lip, I’d like to put the airport as far behind me as I can right now.”

“That bad?” Lip asked, his eyes visible in the rear-view mirror.

“Not really, I’m just done with planes right now,” he shrugged. “Having my feet planted on solid ground feels a hell of a lot better.”

Lip chuckled as he started the car and pointed them towards the exit.


	2. Go The F**k To Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a bit to get this chapter out. We're in our peak season at work and I've been really busy with that, unfortunately. So, here's the new chapter, enjoy!

_The eagles who soar through the sky are at rest_

_And the creatures who crawl, run, and creep._

_I know you’re not thirsty. That’s bullshit. Stop lying._

_Lie the fuck down, my darling, and sleep._

Mickey flipped to the next page of the brightly colored picture book and glanced down. His son, Yevgeny, lay sprawled over the small cot, snoring gently into a Thomas the Tank Engine pillow. The kid was getting big fast and Mickey had to push aside the thought that one day his son might tower over him; not that he couldn’t handle it, given how he’d been the one to keep his older, larger brothers in line. For the time being, he was just glad that Mansbach’s book had once again worked its strange verbal magic on the kid.

Carefully, quietly, Mickey set the book aside and pulled up the old blanket that had once been his, gently tucking it around Yev. Not for the first time he noticed how much more the boy looked like his mother when he was asleep. Pushing back a strand of sandy hair that had gotten in Yev’s eyes, Mickey stood and carefully crept over to the door, easing it shut. Barefoot, he stepped over the loose floorboard, just as the front door slammed and there was the unmistakable sound of high heels on wood as a familiar voice yelled his name.

“Shh! Jesus, Mandy,” Mickey hissed, padding quickly down the hall and into the living room.“I just got Yev to go to bed.”

“Shit,” Mandy whispered, looking sheepish. “I thought-.”

Mickey held up a finger and cocked an ear towards the hall. One second. Two Seconds. Three. He let himself relax as, against all odds, nothing happened.

“Okay, I think we’re good. But keep your f’kin’ voice down.” He caught sight of her dress, “where you goin’ lookin’ all dolled up?”

“What? This?” Mandy made a grand display of her outfit. “It’s my finest ‘I’m-not-a-slut-but-I-still-wanna-look-good’-wear.”

“Sure looks like slut-wear to me,” Mickey said as he flopped down on the threadbare sofa with a grunt of surprise. Digging around under his butt, he pulled out one of Yev’s action figures and tossed it into the plastic toy bin. “Your boy okay with you flaunting it in front of other guys?”

“Who do you think I’m wearing it for, Assface?” Mandy snarked.

“Whoa, geeze, alright,” he said, settling back into the cushions. “So you’re taking your mic out on the town tonight?”

“No, he’s got work. Thought I’d hit up a party that’s going on, after, of course, I got to see my favorite brother.” Mandy paced the room as she spoke, stopping now and then to look at one of the paintings and crayon/marker hybrid pictures that were the bread and butter of a budding kindergartener.

“Yeah, well,” Mickey stretched his stocky form along the length of the couch, “too bad, your favorite brother’s going to be taking a well deserved nap for the next few hours. So could you, you know, lock up on your way out?”

“You sure about that?”

Mickey raised the arm that had been about to cover his eyes, and saw that Mandy wasn’t even looking at him. Following his sister’s line of sight, Mickey saw, silhouetted by the hall light, a small figure that should have been asleep. Groaning, Mickey sat up as Yev gave a squeal of joy and launched himself at Mandy.

“Auntie Mandy!”

“Hey kiddo!” Mandy beamed as she grabbed and swung him up into a big bear hug. “Who’s my favorite little man?”

“Meee!” The little boy cackled as kisses were rained down on his cheeks and forehead.

Still tickling her nephew, Mandy said, “so how come he’s here with you? I thought Svetlana had him until tomorrow?”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey tiredly rubbed a hand over his face, “she called me babbling something about an anniversary or some shit.” He waved his hand in irritation.

Mandy caught something else beneath his annoyance. “Oh?” She said, “were you expecting a booty call?”

Mickey wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Fuck no!”

It’d been months since he had a _serious_ relationship with anyone; especially after things with his last boyfriend ended so... poorly. Even then, most of the guys he’d met had been assholes, clingy, or not even worth his time. There’d been one or two that had lasted a few months, but in the long run it’d just be him and Yev again. Sometimes, he wondered if he kept walking away because he didn’t want to get attached. Maybe once had been enough.

“Well,” Mandy said watching her brother closely. “I _was_ going to see if you wanted to go to the party.”

“Where? Purgatory?” A slow smile spread across his face. “I haven’t been _there_ in ages.”

“Ugh, no. It’s at The Alibi Room.” She answered, readjusting a yawning Yevgeny. “I _wish_ it was at Purgatory.”

Mickey deadpanned. “What?” He goaded, “you too good for The Alibi now?”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Stop being an ass. You know me better than that.”

“Then what the fuck’s the problem?”

“Nothing, just wish they had picked a different place, is all.” Yev squirmed a little and she let him slip back down to the floor. “We _always_ go to the Alibi, ever since we were five and Iggy had us help him drag dad’s drunk ass out of there.”

Mickey nodded sullenly before turning his attention to his son, a cheerful expression sliding over his face. “See bud,” he quirked a smile, “didn’t I tell you it was past your bedtime?”

Yev made groggy, protesting sounds as he trudged his way over to the couch with minimal grace. Mandy watched as Yev let himself be pulled up into his father’s lap, thumb firmly in mouth. Mickey had time to ruffle Yev’s hair and kiss the top of his head before the boy was out cold.

Mandy huffed out a laugh. “It still floors me how great you are at being a father.” A fond smile crept across her face.

Mickey shrugged, readjusting his snoring son as he stood. “I wanted to prove that fucker wrong.” He began to head towards Yev’s room. Mandy followed, the click of her heels echoing behind him.

“We had a fucked up childhood, I don’t want that for Yev.” He said, slowly opening the bedroom door. “Besides, Svetlana would have my nuts on a fuckin’ platter if I fuck things up.”

The sound of snickering broke the silence. Mickey gave his sister a hard look before placing Yevgeny back on the cot.

“So, Mr. Good and Honest Father?” Mandy whispered teasingly. “Does this mean you’ll be staying here all night?”

“The fuck do you think?” Mickey rumbled, tucking Yev in more snuggly this time before leading them back down to the living room.

“Me? You’re asking your baby sister for her opinion?”

Mickey groaned as he started rearranging the pillows on the couch. “No, I’m showin’ her ass the door so that I can get some damn shut eye before she wakes my son, again.”

He glanced over to see Mandy’s expression.

“What?” he asked.

“Your _son_ , doesn’t need you cracking from stress. Ah-” she held up a finger as Mickey opened his mouth to protest. “I get it, I do. You want to be there for him in ways our dad wasn’t, and you’re more than willing to shoulder every burden for him. But you need to be yourself once in a while or the strain will break you.”

“I’m fine Mandy,” Mickey glowered, “really. There’s the door.”

He made a move to usher her out but she slapped a hand on the door jamb.

“I’ll go if you tell me this…”

Arms folded, Mickey waited for her ultimatum.

“When was the last time you did _anything_ for yourself?”

Mandy watched eagerly as Mickey struggled to come up with a reply.

“How about this,” Mickey said with exasperation, then took a deep breath. “Tonight, I am _exhausted_ , but the next time you’ve got something set up, a pre-wedding party, or what-ever-the-fuck you want to call it, I’ll buy a round of drinks for everyone.”

His sister bounced expectantly on the balls of her feet.

“Fine,” Mickey caved, “and then we get to head to the back of Purgatory for the Burlesque show. There, happy?”

Mandy grinned like the cheshire. “You got yourself a deal.”

“Good, alright,” Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. “So, what _is_ this thing you’re heading to tonight?”

“It’s nothing big, just a welcome home party.”

Mickey cocked his head to the side. “Someone get out of prison again?”

“Not quite...” Mandy trailed off. “Ian’s been discharged from the Army.”

“Oh really?” Mickey smirked. “What? Did he fuck a commanding officer?”

“No, Dickhead.” She snapped. “Under medical discharge.”

A thick silence permeated the room as Mickey felt the floor start to sway. Distantly, he was aware of the echoing tick of the kitchen clock. When Mandy broke the silence, it felt like her voice was wrapped in heavy gauze.

He blinked hard for a moment. “What?”

Mandy pursed her lips, “look, all I know is that something went down in Afghanistan. Ian got hurt pretty badly. He spent a few months in some German hospital before coming stateside. Then, I guess he stayed in Boston for a while,” she shrugged, “never heard why, but he’s back home now.”

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat, his mouth trying to form words that wouldn’t budge from his lips. His sister saw this and her expression softened.

“He’s fine,” she said, “at least that’s what Kev and V have told me.”

“And you chose to fucking tell me _now_!” He yelled a bit louder than intended.

“Jesus, calm down.” Mandy huffed. “I didn’t find out from Kev until a few days ago. All Ian ever told me was that he was in Germany for some time. Nothing about injuries.”

Mickey ran a hand across his mouth, an old nervous habit. “Fuck!” He said.

“I thought someone would have told you.”

“No, nobody told me _anything_ , not even…”

“Who’s Ian?” Mickey and Mandy jumped in unison.

“Jesus-!” Mickey yelped.

“-Fucking Christ,” Mandy finished.

Yev stood in the room behind them, blanket crumpled under one arm.

“How does he keep doing that?” Mandy asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Mickey said. “Kid’s a fucking ninja sometimes.”

Mandy sighed, motioning to Yev with open arms. “I’ll take care of Yev while you get ready for bed. Maybe if I try he’ll finally stay asleep.”

She stooped and swept him up into her arms, heading down the hall to his room. “Now, Ian is an old friend of your Dad and Auntie’s.”

“Really?”

“Yup, I can tell you some stories about him, if you like.”

“Cool, how-how did you meet him?” Yev yawned.

“Well,” Mandy mused as she disappeared down the hall, “it all started one day when he tripped a teacher for me.”

“You can do that?” Yev said, shock in his voice.

“Hmm, only if they’re being a prick,” she replied before the door closed behind them.

Groaning as he rolled his eyes, Mickey headed for his room, hoping that maybe, this time, Yev would stay put for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stanza at the beginning of chapter is from "Go The F**k To Sleep" by Adam Mansbach.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Let me know what you think of the story, even though it's just two chapters so far.


	3. Short Change Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the radio silence. Things have been quite crazy on my end. Life and work got the best of me. I've been doing my damnedest to get this chapter out to you guys and finally I was able to play my cards right.
> 
> On another note, I've had a few inquiries about the story thus far, asking about when it takes place. So, to help the story flow a little better as you read. Home Coming takes place roughly 5 or 6 years after season 3, give or take. Ian graduated from High School, hence the AU: Canon Divergence, became an Army recruit, and spent a lot of time in the Middle East. However, I did bring a few things into play from Seasons 4 and 5, because I found a few of the characters and events that occurred to be fascinating.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy this just as much as I had fun writing it.

_ Glory and gore go hand in hand _

_ That’s why we’re making headlines _

_ You could try and take us _

_ But victory’s contagious _

Ian munched on another cheese puff as the song faded out and the car wound its way through the busy evening streets. He listened with half an ear when the next track started up, something with a slow crawl and a western standoff beat, Lip was talking about one of Debbie’s recent adventures. It reminded Ian of the scuffles he and Lip got into back in high school, and he found himself smiling. The song played on. It had been so long since Ian had started to feel comfortable, since he’d been able to actually enjoy music. For once he didn’t feel so… fake, like an impostor in his own skin. The song’s vocals kicked in, but he wasn’t really listening.

_ I can’t see where you comin’ from _

_ But I know just what you runnin’ from: _

“So what happened then?” He asked.

“He tried to stop Debbie from leaving. And  _ that’s _ when she hit him!” Lip laughed.

“Oh man,” Ian said, passing the cheese puffs back to Amanda. “Wish I could’ve been there to see that.”

_ And what matters ain’t the “who’s baddest” but- _

_ The ones who stop you fallin’ from your ladder, baby _

“Same here,” Amanda grinned, munching on a puff. “Debbie’s fierce for a short girl.”

“Red head,” Ian and Lip spoke in unison.

_ And you feel like you feelin’ now _

_ And doin’ things just to please your crowd, _

Ian laughed a real,  _ genuine _ laugh.

_ When I love you like the way I love you, _

_ And I suffer, but I ain’t gonna cut you ‘cause: _

He almost felt like himself again, just as a strange numbness started in his fingers. The feeling traveled up his left arm and across his shoulder. It was a warning of the coming storm, a familiar sensation that  _ shouldn’t _ have been happening.

_ This ain’t no place for no hero. _

_ This ain’t no place for no better man. _

_ This ain’t no place for no hero. _

_ To call “home.” _

It was the song, Ian realized, he felt the beat resonate through his body and the lyrics float through the air. It was  _ that _ song,  **_the_ ** song, the one he’d been listening to when- when… He shook his head trying to dislodge the memories, but the numbness had turned into a vice. He felt it tighten around his heart as his pulse started to pick up speed. Someone said something, but they sounded distant, muted by the roar in his ears. In his mind the voices screamed as blood splattered across the window of the humvee. He jerked and lurched against the seatbelt as he had that day, the feeling of dirt and blood slick and gritty against his face and hands.

_ This ain’t no place for no hero. _

The smell filled his nose again, the reeking rot of iron and burning flesh, mixed with piss and fear. How had he forgotten how bad it could smell?

_ This ain’t no place for no better man. _

He could see them again, their broken bodies pressing near, dying breaths whispering from their lips. Names to faces, faces to names; Miller, Hodgson, Augustine, Davis, Garcia, Harris, Lee, Perez, Walker. Death filled Ian’s mind and his breathing became more ragged, labored, as he scrambled for the door handle. He wanted out, he  _ needed _ to get out, to run, as far and as fast as he could.

“IAN!” The voice cut through the ringing in his ears. 

His head whipped around frantically and he caught sight of Lip’s face through the fog. His brother was staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Ian,” Lip repeated, “I’ve been trying to talk to you, man. Are you alri-”

“I need to get out of the car!”

“What?! It’s bumper to bumper traffic, there’s no-”

“I need to get out of the fucking car, NOW!” Ian bellowed.

Lip's eyes went wide. “There’s nowhere to pull over.”

“I don’t fuckin’  _ care _ , Lip!” Ian tried to yell, gasping as he felt something squeeze his lungs. 

“Ian, look at me.” Amanda had unbuckled and was fully facing him now.

“I can’t breathe.” He told her. “I can’t- I need-,” the pain in his chest grew tighter with each word, “-I need to get out!” 

And like that Amanda whirled on Lip. “He’s having a panic attack!” She yelled. “Pull over!”

“Where?!”

“THERE!”

The car jerked to the right and Ian was shoved against the door as Lip swerved into a vacant spot. The automatic locks disengaged and a moment later Ian was tumbling out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Not even giving them a chance to speak, Ian scrambled to his feet and bolted down the block. Faintly, he could hear Lip and Amanda calling his name, but he was too far away. Feet thudding the pavement to the rhythmic thrum of his heart as he ran as far and as fast as he could. Ducking in and out of the pedestrian foot traffic, Ian let his legs carry him further away from the car, away from that song, and away from the smell of dirt and blood. Yet it wasn’t far enough as he heard the distinctive sound of an incoming rocket overhead. Just like last time, he turned to see if he could spot it, and again he turned too slow. This time, however, the sky was empty and he barreled straight into a young businessman who was leaving a bar.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going. Asshole!” The suit yelled, a slight slur in his voice as he made a grab for Ian’s shirt.

Reflexes took over as Ian grabbed the guy’s arm, digging his fingers into the muscle of his forearm, and twisting. A swift kick to the back of the knees and the guy was face first in the concrete before he finished crying out in pain. Ian blinked and shook his head, breathing heavily, he began to hear the unmistakable sounds of people talking in worried tones. The smell of blood and dirt that had permeated the air was replaced with booze, cigarettes, and car exhaust. He looked down and saw a civilian in a wrinkled blazer. 

Ian slowly released his grip on the man’s arm and rose to his feet. He backed up as the man’s friends, a man and a woman, came to his aid. The second man, sporting a gray three piece suit, glared at Ian as the woman tried to help stop her friend’s nose from bleeding.

“I- I-,” Ian stammered as he backed into a solid form, and felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned in a quick motion, one arm raised in defense as he drew back a fist and swung at the imposing figure; striking air as the guy leaned out of the way. 

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Lip yelled. “It’s me, it’s me,” he let his voice steady, “ it’s  _ just  _ me.” 

“Jesus Lip.” Ian staggered back, dropping his hands, chest heaving to catch breaths that came heavily. “Fuck.” The word came out in a pant. “I- I keep seeing them. It gets more vivid every  _ fuckin’ _ time. ”

“Hey,” Lip said, carefully moving forward. “I get it, you’ve been through a lot of bad shit and now you’re back here,” he slowly placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. “It’s all kinds of strange, but it’s fine now, man. You’re okay.”

Ian stiffened at the touch but didn’t lash out, just shook his head, “no, I’m not.”

Lip looked him in the eye, shrugging as he said, “yeah, that’s true, but I had to say something. I mean, I had a choice between reading up on war-time stress or a book on gay jokes-” Ian snorted a chuckle in spite of himself, which made Lip’s cautious smile grow a little wider. “-and maybe it’s not true, but it’s what you need right now, yeah?”

“Yeah, I- I dunno, I guess so?”

“Well either way we should get back, Amanda’s probably worried and I think that guy’s starting to come around.”

Ian looked back at the man who was starting to blink back into drunken consciousness; taking in the expensive cut of his suit. “Oh don’t tell me he’s a lawyer.”

“Shit,” Lip said as the guy started getting back to his feet, “think you’re still in the mood for another run there Corporal?”

Ian nodded as they turned and booked it back to the car. Behind them they could hear the drunken slurs getting louder the further they got away. As they reached the Sedan, Ian shook off the last few dregs of anxiety. A deep breathe, one, two, and release. He let himself sink into the backseat as they pulled back into traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs throughout story are: Glory and Gore by Lorde and Short Change Hero by The Heavy.


End file.
